What Could Still Be
by Ockermuller
Summary: To have feelings for his best friend was not in Altair’s list of things to do. MalikxAltair. Rated M for a reason! SPOILERS!
1. Chapter 1

Assassin's Creed: AltairxMalik

This is yaoi, sweeties! Don't like, don't read. Rated M for language and sexual innuendos.

*****

The strangest thought runs through one's mind when one is surrounded by twenty guards, has a bruised arm and no sign of reinforcement.

Wild, mad, nonsensical thoughts like "Why didn't I just kiss Malik this morning?"

Everything seemed so simple now that he was about to die! Screw the moral dilemmas and the dense plotting he had being doing for the past few months! He should have just jumped the bastard before leaving; should have kissed him truthfully, groped him through his clothes and then ran for dear live.

Malik would have been mad, furious even, out of breath, face flushed, _screaming _at him, and Altair would have fucking enjoyed himself.

But he didn't do it. And now he could only endure about five more minutes of fighting before an enemy's blade would find its way through his flesh. Plenty enough time to regret his not-coping-a-feel.

How stupid to die because he'd gotten clumsy. How stupid to die thinking about a kiss (of all things!) that never was. His concentration on the fight was slipping away as fatigue took over, the assassins who were supposed to have arrived to help on the mission would probably get there just before his mind fell into darkness…

Two of the guards jumped at the same time. He kicked one away and dodged the second one just in time; they could smell his fear; they knew it was just a matter of time now.

_Dying by the hands of common guards. How manly of you, Altair! _

Shit. Not even a heroic fight with an army of crusaders. About to die because he had slipped, _goddamn idiot_, instead of staying still on the roof waiting for his comrades.

_If you live, you should kiss Mali__k,_ his inner voice wisely told him, _and make it wet, once you're at it._

Air escaped his lungs as someone punched his stomach.

_The best way to go about this is to lick… hm__, suck his bottom lip._

"Altair!"

Something kicked him. He was out of breath. Why were people shouting so loud?

_And then the top lip. Right, can't forget the top lip…_

"He's still alive! Get me some water!"

_Top lip is very important._

Hands were sitting him down, splashing water on his face; it hurt to breath. Men in white. Comrades.

"I'm alive…"

The one helping him smiled, the others ran away to continue what he had started. "Of course you're! Just fell unconscious for a moment, I think" Altair now recognized the man. What was his name again? Aban, Abbas, Abbud… _Luka_? "Must have been a nasty fight. We're sorry for the lateness."

His name didn't matter. "Yes. I spent the night killing the archers around, didn't get any sleep…" Surreal, to talk to a familiar face he thought would never come. "Spoke to Malik, came here"

"Then off you go. Back to the Bureau, we'll take care of everything now."

Altair stumbled from the scene. Taking the left would be the quickest way, but there was a crazy-homeless guy walking around pushing people. Fuck. He did not want to deal with that when his body ached and his lungs begged for air.

The longest way then.

_So, you're alive…__Congrats._

Fucking inner voice.

What a shitty day.

And he got to live.

Oh…

Well…

Thank the Gods he didn't kiss Malik that morning then.

*****

"… irresponsible! How old do you think you…"

One of the rare occasions Altair was physically touched by someone happened when he got hurt. He always used to attend his own wounds so no one would have to bother. He didn't want to show his weakness to his brothers.

Yet, he now used it as an excuse for Malik to touch him. He thought maybe Malik saw it as an excuse to touch him too, since he never cared for anyone else's bruises.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"Are you listening to me?!" Malik's caress on his arm was like a lover's whisper, one he never had, and completely contradicted his tone and harsh words. "So goddam…" Every wound would be cared for, every touch would linger more than the previous one; Altair could barely remember to feel pain when Malik's attention was all over him.

His skin tingled as the younger man stayed his hand a moment longer on his arm, Altair's own hand resting on top of it for a moment, such a heart stopping moment, before reluctantly (Altair hoped) it moved away.

"Bring your clothes to the tap, they need washing."

Malik left. And they would never talk about it. That moment. Like it didn't even happen, even though it wouldn't cease replaying in his head.

They were friends now, as close as they had never been. With Al Mualim dead and the Creed trying to survive on its own, Altair found support and comfort inside Jerusalem's Bureau.

Malik didn't blame him, didn't hate him. He had forgiven everything that had been done to him, to Kadar. Maybe it was time for Altair to forgive himself.

Staying beside that man, talking to him, being part of his life (even if just for a little while) had made him heal. His friendship and newly discovered feelings gave him meaning, a taste of what peace felt like.

Altair liked this peace-thingy. He had heard of it all his life; had fought for it, lived for it… But never felt it.

Fighting the crusaders for what, if all he had to do to reach peace was lay in comfortable pillows in a summer night and had Malik bring wine so they could, his words, "watch the stars like kings"?

"Ow, is the blood just going to clean itself off of your clothes now?" The younger man's words, spoken from the door, made his lips twitch before he could control it.

God, he liked Malik so bad…

*****

As Altair laid there listening to a pen writing, a cool breeze passing by him, his thoughts turned once again to the feelings that were flooding his mind.

The Thing.

That's how Altair named the whole package of feelings, fantasies, daydreams and attitudes he had concerning Malik.

Since he became aware of it, he found that The Thing should not be messed with.

The Thing had a will of its own.

The Thing was getting completely out of hand.

His fantasies were inappropriate, he knew; and they kept escalating; the_ things_ he wanted to do to the younger man came and went to his mind like the waves. They also depended on his mood, he supposed, and on the type of arguing that was taking place.

When Altair returned bruised, there would be scolding, yes, but Malik would also tend to his wounds with a care he could later blame on his duties as the Bureau keeper. Altair wanted to kiss him the most those days.

On other occasions, Malik would piss him off just before he was heading out for a mission. That was never good. In those moments Altair felt a burning desire to go over the frickin' counter. What he would do after that, not even him was so sure.

Probably kiss him, he guessed. A really strong kiss, to shot him up. Hm, maybe press him against the wall… Yeah, Malik between him and a wall sounded good. Way too good to be safe.

One of the things he was pretty sure he wanted to do was to hug Malik from behind. This way, he figured, he would have better access to his neck. There was something about the idea of kissing and sucking on Malik's neck that made Altair shiver in anticipation.

His skin was not rough like most men's. It looked… _good_. Especially at the neck.

Even weirder than his creepy neck obsession was the yearning to take that same position behind Malik and give him a handjob. GOD, he could _not_ explain this shit!

The first time it had crossed his mind was an evening when the younger man had made him particularly mad. As adrenaline incited Altair to climb like a lunatic the tallest building he could find, fantasies filled with whispers and moans blinded his vision.

If ever given the chance, he would make Malik go mad with pleasure. He could almost feel his hand around a hot, pulsating flesh that wasn't his own. A shiver ran down his spine. Malik would throw his head back in abandon, on Altair's shoulder, as he was stroked. His neck exposed for Altair to do as he pleased.

There would be nothing Malik could do but to surrender to his ministrations.

Completely at his mercy. And Altair would show him none.

And so, Altair came to the conclusion that so much time in the sun was finally making him hallucinate.

How odd, to have fantasies about pleasuring someone instead of fantasies about pleasuring himself. He had never given his female partners such a treatment, it never seemed arousing to his eyes…

How long since he had touched a woman? Altair couldn't even remember exactly what breasts felt like, nor did he want to. All his sexual experiences had been short and with the simple goal of quieting down his teenage hormones. There was never any fantasizing, burning desires or wanton needs.

Now he was an adult who supposedly had full control over his body, and yet couldn't quiet stop daydreaming about giving his friend a handjob.

It was disturbing, in a way.

Breasts and tight wetness had served their propose when he didn't know what he wanted but needed release desperately. Now, for once in his life, with each day that passed he got closer to finding out what was it that he desired.

Which brought him to a very fundamental question: how to go about it?

Altair hardly believed that going up to Malik and asking for a kiss, please, because he wanted to prove a point was going to get him the answers. Confronting him face to face about the situation ("yeah, you give me wood, where do we go from here?") wasn't the way to go either.

If there was one thing he was sure was that a one-night stand would never satisfy him. How could it, when a taste of Malik's body would probably just increase the flame he felt? And for some reason, Altair had the impression that becoming just fuck buddies with the younger man wouldn't do it either.

So what was it, damn it! Why was it that mere sex just didn't seem enough? What could he possibly do to satisfy his hunger for Malik?

And this… _atmosphere_: what was up with that?! Touches that lingered more than they should, stolen glances holding a hidden meaning that Altair just couldn't quite put him finger on… Caresses that spoke more than words…

The only plausible explanation (the only explanation he wanted to take into consideration, really) was sexual tension.

Altair had never had a sexual-tension-thingy before (that he was aware of), but he had heard of this intriguing phenomenon. The bickering back and forth with such a heated passion that could culminate with hot bodies pressed against walls and ardent kisses.

Or _whatever._

Only in his case, it always ends up with a cranky Malik and a few hours of climbing around with a semi hard on. No heavy patting for him.

Altair was a hundred percent positive that Malik's reactions to his provocations were responsible for their current pheromone-filled atmosphere. It was his blushed face, panted voice, all those furious remarks thrown at him with a passion that truly belonged to Malik's nature… God, he wanted to jump him so bad!

If only things had gone differently…. Instead of arguing, just ignoring each other… Than maybe all those feelings wouldn't be building up inside of him in the first place.

Yet.

Yet… with The Thing gone, he would have no reason to go to Jerusalem so often. His job would get easier and his life would get back to the same old boredom. No desires. No purposes. And without a master to trust and guide him.

Life had become so dull after Al Mualim…

And so full of live after he deepened his friendship with the younger assassin!

He had never felt so alive! Climbing, running, jumping didn't give him the adrenaline he now felt every time he thought about Malik and The Thing, feelings he never believed could exist inside him. The possibilities!

It was something to do. A part of his life with no involvement in assassinations and betrayals. It filled his mind with warmth and his skin with goosebumps. How could he not fall in love with falling in love?

Altair felt sleep hovering over him. The feeling that he would wake up and realize another man was master of his soul never leaving his mind.

*****

I think I should say it: this story completely disregards AC: Bloodlines and the Codex pages in ACII.

So, what's up! =] This story is also on Deviant Art, on my account www. the-not-writer. deviantart. com (minus the spaces!!). Check it out to see the two fan arts that inspired this story!

Currently, I'm working on a second chapter! Feel free to point out any spelling mistakes (English is not my first language). Feed back is MUCH appreciated!

Edit: Thank you SO much, Miss Ziya, for correcting my spelling/grammatical mistakes! I didn't have a beta for this chapter and English is not my first language, so a few errors occurred. Thanks a lot!


	2. Chapter 2

Assassin's Creed: AltairxMalik

This is yaoi, sweeties! Don't like, don't read. Rated M for language and sexual innuendos.

*****

It tasted sweet to his tongue, the wine. Ships that had endured for months the sea's hardship finally arrived that day just in time for Malik to buy a bottle of their wine; before Altair had to leave for Masyaf again.

Altair approved of this amazing delicacy from the Occident. He approved even more of his friend asking him to stay one more night so they could enjoy it together.

"The new leader will not be fond of us idling away like this." The younger man shifted around the cushions to find a better position. They never sat too close – Malik made sure of it – nor did they get too tipsy to do anything inappropriate.

Altair passed the bottle back. "Then do not tell him." For a second, their hands brushed against one another as he managed to hold eye contact with his friend. Malik quickly looked away, though he did look embarrassed.

There was a…cute side to him that Altair was slowly uncovering.

"You should see this guy, Malik. He has barely memorized our names and already thinks he's king shit."

"Yes, I heard he's not too popular among novices-" Altair's glare would have been petrifying if the man wasn't sprawled everywhere like a dog that ate all the meat it could stomach. And if Malik wasn't Malik, that is. "I'm to meet him in two months."

"Lucky you. I'll see him tomorrow."

Altair grew silent as the Dai began to let his mind wonder. The night was warmer than usual. It was almost time to close the entrance on the roof, but he supposed he could wait a little longer since he wouldn't see Altair for a week. Malik cherished this moment together. It was theirs and theirs alone.

At first, Malik just plain wanted to sleep with him. That was years ago.

Sexual relations between men, though unusual, were not unknown to the Assassin's world. Their path was a lonely one; almost no way to marry when, at any given time, you needed to report to Masyaf A.S.A.P. and be sent to your death. No room for lovers or relationships. So who was to blame if two guys drank a little bit more than they could handle?

It was only natural that hands would wander… _around._

Malik could always tell if it'd happened. The two people wouldn't look at each other in the eyes anymore, an awkward feeling floated around them. He had the impression other assassins, astute as they all were, could notice the signs also.

No one talked about it. Love was not part of their lives; thus it was an unspeakable rule that they had permission to get creative from time to time to let off some steam in non-violent ways.

Sex was permitted, love was not and that was exactly Malik's problem when he realized his lust went further than it should.

It was so natural to fall in love with the new Altair. He preserved the passion, the inextinguishable fire the old Altair possessed that had made a younger Malik weak on his legs more than just a few times. Together with that, the new Altair was a good friend, loyal, more mature and humble than before.

A little voice in the back of his mind added the word "hotter" and was duly ignored.

The best thing to do – the wise decision he should make – was to continue on being friends with him and pretend nothing was going on inside his heart. His feelings were doomed to fade if not given the proper fuel.

Leave it to Altar to ruin a perfectly good plan.

The hope-he-should-not-have was renewed as Altair kept coming back to Jerusalem more often than not; each time Malik could feel his presence at the door staring at him, as if noticing him for the first time. His steps were cautious and his tone was smooth like silk on Malik's skin; an alluring voice he didn't remember his friend to possess.

Malik had to make him stop, just _stop_! With the seductive ways that sent shivers crawling down his skin. The more attracted Malik felt, the more he taunted Altair into anger.

His behavior had become quite _strange_ in the past few months. The voice, his attitude, the way he walked.

As he pushed his hood back a little when entering the Bureau, Malik couldn't help but wonder if this was a new habit of his, and how many more had the chance to thoughtfully memorize that handsome face. The older man gained so much more beauty as the candle light bathed his features; those eyes that kept staring at him, never looking away, turned into the most vivid apricot.

Malik loved apricot.

It didn't help that Altair could probably interpret his dazed expression for what it actually was. Malik wondered… It crossed his mind once or twice… A timid thought, really… If Altair was doing this _just_ for him. To get his attention.

Could the fool not see he was uncomfortable? What. Did. Altair. Want. From. Him, goddamn it?

A lover, a friend with benefits? Those were things he could not give him. Even if they lay together, what would happen in a few months? He could picture Altair – his face dark as the night – ending their affair because he already had enough, because the others were talking about them.

An affair with a man, not founded merely on sex, would destroy their honor… and his feelings. Malik couldn't betray his heart like that just to satisfy a carnal desire.

Now, if only Altair would get a clue.

"He said… He does not want me in Jerusalem for a few months."

The younger man blinked.

The deep emotion he heard in Altair's voice made him look at his friend dumbfounded. The seriousness in that half-covered face took any doubts off his mind; he had heard correctly. "W-what? Why?"

"A mission somewhere else, I don't know. I can't disobey orders, but I told him my wishes to continue on working here." Altair's hands held each other nervously as he spoke. Maybe the wine was finally going to Malik's head as he almost blurted out that he knew work had nothing to do with his being there.

His brothers in arms came and went – sometimes to other cities, sometimes to their deaths – not Altair. He stayed as long as he could, stalling, pretending he was gathering information on the crusaders when he had gotten it since day one. It was an excuse and it worked for them.

Malik just wished he wasn't so alone.

"…And what did he say?" The breath he didn't realize he was holding escaped his mouth.

Finishing his last gulp of wine, Altair looked even more agitated. "That… if the Dai requests for me to stay, I may do so."

The older man looked at him expecting a reaction. Somehow, that simple statement seemed to carry a dozen hidden meanings. Malik could see hope in apricot-eyes and it hurt.

Was this some kind of test? Like a decision was being put in his hands and the choice he made would say if he passed or not.

Altair was looking at him anxiously. "_Do you wish me to stay, Malik?"_ was the question.

If the older man really felt anything for him, chances were something would eventually come out of it. Thus, he should say no, make up an excuse, do it so Altair would go away and let him be the _fuck alone._ EVEN if he didn't want to be alone anymore!

A good friend would smile and say yes, of course, right away. A good friend wouldn't hesitate. Malik was not such a person; he was just a desperate man losing control over his life.

He didn't want Altair to stay. And he didn't want him to leave either.

_Do it, do it, you idiot! This is your chance of ending this before it has a chance to begin!_

His previous life back. Without Kadar.

Lips smiled without permission. "Of course, Altair, I shall write a letter right away."

Pure bliss took control over handsome features before it was quickly hidden. It took his breath away. "Thank you, Malik." He would never forget the care-free smile that lingered on his friend's face. The Dai was able to tell Altair could not suppress it.

His actions were getting careless. Altair was finding a way around his heart and he was letting him.

Malik could already taste apricot in his mouth.

*****

I think I should say it: this story completely disregards AC: Bloodlines and the Codex pages in ACII. YAY!

Short second chapter 'cause classes will start Monday. OMG!!! This is so exciting, you guys! College, finally!

Thank you SO much for adding this story to your favorites! Thank you also for all the feed back on both ffnet and DA. It means a lot!!

Don't know when I'll have time to write again, probably by the end of the month (here in Brazil, we have an entire week of holidays this month, how cool is that!). But no promises this time…

Especial thanks to Alex, my beta. I already thanked her, like, a thousand times, so one more time won't hurt! XD

For Bloodiemondei: thank you for the awesome message, I love you too! Only I can't send you a reply, 'cause ffnet says you don't take private messages… u.u

Okay, that's it! Write me back, people!!


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